


death of a bachelor

by RerumTechnologies



Series: When Avengers Adopt [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Avengers in medical, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Fluff and Angst, M/M, avengers adopt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9110815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RerumTechnologies/pseuds/RerumTechnologies
Summary: Dylan Bailey knows he’s different.It’s not just that he’s deaf or his mom is, like, half his dad’s age or that she’s his fourth wife or that Dylan has a half-sister almost twenty years older than him or even that his sister doesn’t have a first name – although any of that would make him different.(Angela Gallero told him his sister was probably a criminal and that’s why she only uses one name. Dylan punched her in the stomach and then pretended not to understand what the teachers were yelling at him. He gave her his cookies for a week after he hit her and she said sorry after she met Bailey. She said Bailey was super cool. Which she is.)Anyway, Dylan knows he’s different because his dad is different. His mom is normal – even if Bailey calls her SuperBrat (Dylan is SuperBratling) because they look like Superman – but she’s not like Dad or Bailey. Dad and Bailey are different, like Dylan, but more.But actually, this is how the Avengers find out about Coulson. Set afterwatcher of the eternal flame.





	

Dylan Bailey knows he’s different.

It’s not just that he’s deaf or his mom is, like, half his dad’s age or that she’s his fourth wife or that Dylan has a half-sister almost twenty years older than him or even that his sister doesn’t have a first name – although any of that would make him different.

(Angela Gallero told him his sister was probably a criminal and that’s why she only uses one name. Dylan punched her in the stomach and then pretended not to understand what the teachers were yelling at him. He gave her his cookies for a week after he hit her and she said sorry after she met Bailey. She said Bailey was super cool. Which she _is_.)

Anyway, Dylan knows he’s different because his dad is different. His mom is normal – even if Bailey calls her SuperBrat (Dylan is SuperBratling) because they look like Superman – but she’s not like Dad or Bailey. Dad and Bailey are different, like Dylan, but more.

Dylan figures it out from Dad’s stories. He talks about stuff Dylan learns in History but different than the teacher does. He tells Dylan about World War II and how the signs about “loose lips” and “soldiers without guns” were still up in storefronts even five years after the war.

“People were still thinking about it then. It wasn’t history then. It was something that happened just last week. Just last month. People were still scared and worried and thankful to their soldiers. All the little boys wanted to be a soldier or a pilot. Something to help and make a difference. Something that people would remember. And then we had something new to be afraid of. Russia. Well, the Soviet Union is what we called it–”

And that’s what makes Dylan curious. Dad signs “we” sometimes instead of “they”. Dylan never questions it because you don’t question Dad. Not in his house. Dad says other stuff that he shouldn’t know about History because Dad’s a Financial Manager not a museum person or a teacher. And he likes to use words that people don’t use anymore. Not even people as old as Dad is. Or says he is.

He talks to Dad about History and he talks to Bailey about Science. Science is Dylan’s favorite subject (Biology technically) even though he’s best at Math. Bailey likes to talk to him about Science and she doesn’t mind explaining things in dumber ways so he can get it. That’s how he learned about genetics. Bailey used cards to explain it. He gets half a deck from Mom and half a deck from Dad. She says that technically they might not have _anything_ in common in their genes because Dad could have given them both completely different halves of his deck. Dylan thought this was super cool and got extra credit from Ms. Holtzmann for telling his class all about it.

So Dylan figures it’s like this. Captain America is really old but he looks really young. Dad looks kind of old but not old enough to know about the Cold War even more than Mrs. Yates does. Dylan doesn’t think his dad is a superhero – if anyone is a superhero, Bailey is. But Dad has to be older than he looks. Dad says he’s forty-seven. The Cold War started in 1947. So if Dad was alive then he’d be, like, seventy.

As much as Dad likes to talk about history he doesn’t like to talk about Bailey. Dylan has to get all his stories about Bailey from Bailey which doesn’t make it as fun. Whenever he asks Dad, Dad gets angry and yells and signs at him not to “talk about that candy ass kid”. Dylan thinks that’s weird too. Alex’s mom is a doctor and he’s really proud of her and he says his grandparents are too.

“Why wouldn’t they be? Being a doctor is the coolest thing you can be.”

“Besides a superhero.” Dylan pointed out, “Being a _superhero_ is the coolest thing you can be.”

“Yeah, but superheroes have to have secret identities remember? So they don’t count because they get to be two things.”

Dylan thought that made sense, “What if you’re a doctor for superheroes?”

Alex’s eyes went wide and he grinned, “ _That’s_ the coolest thing you can be.”

Dylan knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone that Bailey works with superheroes. She could get in trouble and so could they. So he didn’t say anything when all the other kids started talking about how they were going to be doctors for superheroes.

He just felt really lucky because his sister _was_ a doctor for superheroes. She helped _Hawkeye_.

The way Dylan sees it, if Dad is older like Captain America is older than that must mean Bailey is too. Since she got half of Dad’s deck, that’s gotta mean she’s older like Dad and Captain America. That explains why she looks more like Alex’s older sister than Mom even though they’re, like, the same age.

So, Dylan knows he’s different because if Bailey and Dad are older than maybe he’s older. Or will be older, since he’s only nine and it doesn’t show like it does for Dad and Bailey and Captain America.

Bailey doesn’t like it when Dylan asks about her age and why she looks like a high schooler instead of a doctor. She doesn’t get angry like Dad does, but she gets quiet or she changes the subject to stuff like biomes and ecosystems (which is really cool so he lets her do it).

So instead he asks Hawkeye.

<<How old am I?>>

They’re mixing cake batter for Thor’s chosen birthday. (Darcy picked it out. She let Dylan help.) “Nine, remember? We marathoned Kim Possible. Natasha did all of her stunts for you.”

Dylan knew that. Dylan had told them how his dad said a lot of what Kim Possible does is impossible and unrealistic. Natasha brought him to the gym to show him exactly how wrong Dad was. <<How old is Bailey?>>

Hawkeye stops mixing the batter. He hasn’t been signing because his hands were busy but he frees them up now and stops speaking. <<Twenty-eight. Why do you ask?>>

Dylan looks at the batter and bites his lip. <<I don’t think she’s twenty-eight.>>

He laughs, “Yeah, personally I think she’s eighteen but faked her age so everyone would take her seriously.”

He starts to mix the batter again when Dylan signs back, <<I think she’s older.>>

This time Hawkeye puts the bowl of cake batter on the counter and goes around to sit by Dylan at the bar, <<Why do you think she’s older?>>

Dylan considers him for a minute. He’s not sure if Hawkeye will tell on him or not. Hawkeye and Bailey are friends but since Bailey won’t even talk to Dylan, maybe he won’t tell. Maybe Hawkeye can investigate for him like he does for Nick Fury. <<Don’t tell Bailey.>> He signs first, <<She doesn’t like to talk about it.>> Hawkeye gets that superhero look on his face. The really serious look.

<<I won’t tell Bailey.>>

“Ok,” Dylan takes a deep breath, lets it out, <<I think Bailey is old like Cap is old. Like she looks young but she’s actually old.>>

<<How old do you think she is?>>

Dylan considers it. If Dad is seventy, then he’d be born in – Dylan starts counting on his fingers to make sure, even though he doesn’t have to – 1947. And if he had Bailey when he was twenty-one, like he said, then he had her in – he counts again – 1968. That would make Bailey… <<Forty-nine. But I’m not sure because I did it all in my head and I’m better at it when I do it on paper and show my work.>>

Hawkeye stares at him for a long time. Dylan tries to keep his eyes open as long as Hawkeye does but they start to water after a minute. Finally, he signs, <<Why do you think Bailey is forty-nine?>>

<<Because I think Dad is old too. I think he’s seventy or something, even though he says _he’s_ forty-nine. >>

<<Why?>> It’s like he’s giving a report. Like Hawkeye would to Nick Fury. It makes it feel like a real mission. So he lays it all out for Hawkeye. How Dad talks. How Bailey does. How Dad knows things about history even his teacher doesn’t. It’s not a lot but Hawkeye looks impressed. “Wow. That’s pretty smart of you, kid.”

Dylan grins at him and then frowns so he looks serious when he asks, <<Are you sure I’m nine?>>

Hawkeye eyes him up and down, <<You look nine.>>

<<But Bailey looks like a teenager and she’s not a teenager.>>

Hawkeye grins, <<Tell you what. How about I take this as my new mission? I’ll figure out how old Bailey is. And how old you are. I’ll report back to you, okay?>>

Dylan nods, appeased, <<Okay. Can we put sprinkles in the batter?>>

Hawkeye scoffs, “It wouldn’t be a real cake without sprinkles in the batter.”

}{

“We’ve got a problem.”

It’s been months since the team figured out Bailey’s backstory (and days since Dylan came to Clint with his theories). They’d pretty much left it alone (Clint’s certain Tony went back and watched the clip of Bailey in the examination room when they weren’t around but he didn’t ask just like he doesn’t ask Natasha about the Red Room), but Bailey is still acting funny. And now Dylan is asking questions and Clint’s maybe kind of freaking out a little bit.  

“What?” Steve asks from his armchair. He’s got a pad on his knee and a pencil in his hand. Clint can see the New York skyline on the paper from where he’s thrown himself on one of the couches.

Natasha’s taken up most of the coffee table with her weapons. She’s selecting each one and giving it the same undivided attention she gives her targets. She doesn’t even look up when she asks, smirking, “What did you do?”

Clint gives her his best hurt puppy dog eyes. It’s something he’s been working on for a while, a mix of Dylan and Steve, “I didn’t do anything–”

“This time.”

“That was Thor!”

“Sure it was.”

“What’s the problem, Clint?” Steve asks a little louder.

“He asked me how old Bailey is.”

They both stared at him. “I don’t see how that’s a problem,” Steve says, slowly. “You tell him she’s twenty-eight.”

“It’s a problem because after a very enlightening conversation he told me that he thinks Bailey is forty-nine.”

Steve frowns, “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’!” Clint flops onto the couch, “I told him I’d look into it. What am I gonna say to him?”

“Tell Bailey.” Natasha says, still not looking up from her knives, guns and Widow’s Bites. They both stare at her until she does glance up. “It’s not our secret to tell. Its Bailey’s choice. If she decides he doesn’t need to know then he doesn’t need to know.”

“He already knows!” Clint throws up his hands and falls onto the couch. “We can’t just tell him he’s _wrong_. He won’t accept it!”

“Natasha’s right,” Steve sighs, swiping a hand down his face, “We should tell Bailey.”

“And who’s going to tell her?” Clint asks, “You? Because I sure as hell am not telling Bailey we stalked her, went behind her back and talked to her father and her evil step-mother and snooped through her files.” He huffs a humorless laugh, “You have fun with that.”

Natasha and Steve trade a look. “We’ll do it together,” Steve says.

}{

“Code Silver, Bailey.”

“But I got the last one!”

“And then I had to deal with that Code Gray! I had to deal with Melinda May, Bailey – _Melinda May!_ ”

“Fine! Fine!” Bailey comes whirling out of her office, pouting. She spies Natasha sitting next to a trembling Junior Agent. The pout turns into a grin. It’s stronger than it was even a few weeks ago, but still not what it should be, “Natasha! Hi! Did you do this?” She touches the Junior Agent’s arm tenderly, “Thank you for making it a stable fracture, but you know you don’t need an excuse to come see me?” She shushed the Junior Agent when he whimpered. “Oh hush. What did you do? Did you say Hawkeye was better than Black Widow? Did you play Gangnam Style around Natasha or Tony? Did you say Fury’s eyepatch looked funny? I’m pretty sure someone started a blog with all the do’s and don’ts. You should look into that. Actually, I think it might just be the don’ts.”

“He said they shouldn’t be letting children treat SHIELD Agents.” Natasha says, calmly examining her nails, “So I brought him over to let him experience our first rate medical staff.”

“They better put that on the blog then,” Bailey hums thoughtfully, but Natasha can see where the pleased flush is creeping up her neck. “That was very kind of you to show him the error of his ways.” Bailey stops after that, focusing on splinting the agents arm and getting it into a sling. She’s still not babbling like she used to. It puts Natasha on edge for some reason. She likes the quiet, always has, but silence around Bailey seems unnatural. Natasha examines her. She’s still pale. Thinner than she was at Dylan’s birthday party too. Natasha’s seen this kind of behavior before. A person punishing themselves. Denying themselves everything that makes them happy. Unknowingly hurting the people around them as well, but too lost in the self-hatred, grief and guilt to notice.

“What is Code Silver?” Bailey glances up at her, shocked that Natasha initiated the conversation. Maybe she forgot she was there. It’s happened before.

“It’s, um,” Bailey frowns, “It’s Stupid Junior Agent. It’s near the top of our ‘what we hate most’ list. Right after Code Black.” She huffs a laugh that dies almost as soon as it leaves her throat.

“You should come to cards tomorrow night.”

Bailey blinks up at her for a second, “Oh,” She says. For a second Natasha thinks Bailey is going to refuse, but she’s trained her better than that. Bailey knows Natasha won’t accept no as an answer. “Ok.” She gets up, looking at the Junior Agent for the first time since they first came in, “You’re done, by the way.”

“We’re playing poker at ten.”

“Sounds good, I get off at nine. But, um,” Natasha stares at Bailey as she fidgets, “Isn’t cards, like, your guys’ thing? It’s on the blog.”

“Our thing?”

“Yeah, you know, you guys. The Avengers’ wind down night. There’s also a memo about it because I guess some people don’t follow the blog. Also, I don’t want to lose four month’s pay.”

Natasha’s brow raises a tiny bit, just enough to signal her amusement, “A memo?”

“Yeah, I think Deputy Director Hill sent it out.” Bailey laughs. A real one this time.

Natasha makes a note to invite Hill to their next celebration. If she can get that kind of response from Bailey than the Avengers will want her around. “If you could bring a copy of the memo that’d be wonderful. Don’t worry about money.”

“Ok, then…” Bailey watches her as she leaves. On her way out she passes by Junior Agent Donald. She bares her teeth in a smile. She hears Bailey laugh when Donald ducks. It makes her smile for real.

}{

Clint hears the elevator and runs out to meet Bailey before anyone else can move. Well, if Natasha had wanted to, she might have beaten him. Maybe.

“Bailey!”

“Clint!” She laughs like a little kid when he picks her up, swings her around Cinderella-style, and tosses her over his shoulder to carry her into the living area. She’s light. Too light. Is that normal for a girl her age? Well, her physical age? “Don’t crinkle Natasha’s memo!”

“Natasha has her own memo? Why don’t I get a memo?” Clint pouts, throwing her down onto the couch next to Thor.

“Healer Bailey!”

“It’s actually a memo about Avenger’s Poker Night.” Bailey says, smiling at Thor. If it’s a little smaller than normal, no one mentions it, “Deputy Director Hill distributed it.” Clint flops onto the floor on the other side of the coffee table from her.

“Is it actually titled Avenger’s Poker Night?” Tony asks from the bar, “Because I think it should be called Tony Stark’s Poker Night since I bankroll the thing.”

“Have you ever played the game of poker, Healer Bailey?” Thor takes the memo gingerly from Bailey. “I did not know there was a declaration of our game nights. That’s very kind of the Lady Hill.”

“I’ve played before, a long time ago though,” Bailey grimaces, “I’ll probably suck at it.”

Steve walks in, “Hey, Bailey. What’s this about a memo?”

Bailey plucks the paper from Thor’s gentle fingers and hands it over to the Captain, “It basically says you’re not to be bothered until tomorrow morning. You’ve all got different times too. Tony’s is the latest. You and Natasha have the earliest.”

“Thank God.” Tony pours a little more amber stuff into his glass and makes his way to the living area.

Bruce comes in then, in a gray T-shirt and sweats. “Hi, Bailey.” Bailey returns his smile too, still too small for anyone’s comfort.

“Hi, Dr. Banner. Did you look at the sludge thing I sent you? This Junior Agent came in totally covered in it. It was so cool.” Bailey’s eyes light up, “Thor!”

“Yes!”

“Have you ever played thumb war?”

Steve’s laughing at the memo, only half listening to what his team his doing, “This is actually pretty funny.” He hands it over to Natasha who smirks and folds it carefully into her pocket. Cap pauses for so long Bailey looks up from her and Thor’s battling hands, causing her to lose.

“Victory is mine.” Thor laughs, but Bailey is staring at Steve.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk to you.”

“We’re doing this _now?_ ” Tony groans and slumps forward onto the table where’s he’s nursing his drink.

Bailey pales. Clint and Natasha trade a look. Does she suspect they know? “O-ok. What about?”

“We’re not angry with you.” Clint says quickly.

If anything that seems to make things worse. Bailey’s breaths start coming faster, “You – you know then?”

Thor puts a hand on her shoulder, making her sink another couple inches into the cushions, “We know you did not have a choice in the matter. Of course, we don’t blame you.”

“You don’t,” And suddenly there are tears in Bailey’s eyes. Tony and Bruce somehow take a step back together, which should be impossible because Tony’s sitting down. They both have a similar look of panic and helplessness. “You’re n-not angry at me?” Bailey hiccups and Tony’s standing at the bar again, scotch in hand.

“Of course not,” Steve says softly. He sits on Bailey’s other side. “Why would we hate you for something like this?”

“Oh, thank God.” Bailey huffs a teary laugh, “I didn’t know how I was going to keep it from you guys for much longer. He – He really hates me. I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me.” Bailey wipes her eyes and rubs them, hard. “And he and I were pretty close before–”

“What?” Tony puts down his drink, frowning. Natasha is too. “Who hates you? Dylan? Your dad?” He scoffs, “Fuck him, Bailey,”

“Tony.” Steve chides.

“No, I’m sorry, but he’s a grade A dick.” Tony lifts his glass, “I wish he and his old misogynistic ass well in hell.” Natasha is still frowning at Bailey.

“Wait.” Bailey looks up from wiping her eyes on her sleeve, “You talked to my father? Why?”

“Well that’s how we found out.” Bruce says softly from the far side of the dining room table. Clint would have laughed at Bruce being afraid of a crying little girl if he wasn’t scared a little bit too. Tears are scary.

“But – but my dad doesn’t know anything about Coulson.” Realization dawns across Bailey’s freckled face. “Oh shit.”

“What,” Natasha says lowly, “were you talking about?”

“Nothing. My dad. And… me. Of course.” Bailey looks ashamed and scared and frustrated. “You know about my age.”

“Yes, but that’s not what you were talking about.” Steve stares Bailey down. Bailey, while a very good physician for the Avenger’s, has never had to endure interrogation via disappointed American Icon. Clint knows she doesn’t stand a chance. Clint knows that Bailey knows too. “What about Coulson?”

“Nothing. Nothing about Coulson.” Bailey shakes her head. “I miss him.”

“Coulson’s the one who hates you.” Natasha says, watching Bailey panic.

“No. Of course not. Coulson’s d-dead.” Bailey’s gaze darts between Steve and Natasha, between Bruce and Tony and Thor and lands on Clint. Her face crumples with what she sees there. “Clint, I–”

“He’s alive.” Clint says. It’s not a question but after a few tense trying seconds Bailey nods.

Clint’s up and off the floor before Bailey can say anything. Natasha watches him go, putting a hand lightly on Bailey’s knee when she makes a move to follow. After he’s gone she turns back to Bailey. “Tell us everything.”

}{

Clinton Barton has the kind of single minded loyalty because of which wars are won and regimes are toppled. That doesn’t mean he just gives such loyalty away on a whim. He can be friend _ly_ , but a person knows when Hawkeye has put his trust in you. Has considered you a friend.

And while he may not be the best friend to have – the list of faults goes on – such loyalty makes him the worst sort of person to betray. In Clint’s mind, to betray him, to betray his trust is to betray everyone who trusts Clint. And with his job, trust is everything. Every fault he ever saw and looked past will now be used against you. Every soft spot he has protected and covered up is now a target.

That is, obviously, in more hostile situations.

Clint is kind of at a loss for the situation he finds himself in now.

Not his physical situation – he’s been in the SHIELD Ground HQ vents plenty of times and knows the facility like the back of his hand – but the emotional one.

Bailey hasn’t hurt him. Hasn’t hurt people he cares about. In fact, if what Clint suspects is true, she’s helped a person he cares about. But she kept it from him. He’d thought her a friend outside of the deceit he expects from SHIELD. Natasha, he understands, has and does hide things from him. Tony doesn’t have the tact to keep anything life changing a secret, even if it really should be – not unless it’s life threatening. Bruce waits until he asks, Thor just bellows it to the world, Steve tells you as easily and comfortably as possible and Coulson… Coulson only filled him in on what he needed to know. But Bailey was talking all the time, information, wanted or unwanted, came gushing out of her at every moment.

Only he knows that flow of triviality masks the real secrets she holds about her past and her age. It’s odd, then, that she can’t seem to hide a secret from them very well. Originally they thought she was going quiet and forgetful and _off_ because they were snooping around her past. But she hadn’t even known. So that must’ve been when Coulson…

He can’t even consider it yet. That he could be – that Coulson could be…

He really can’t.

This is why, not even three hours after Bailey spilled the beans, Clint is popping out of the vents into Administration. Normally, he tries to stay out of this part of any SHIELD facility, but today he has someone to track down.

Administration functions over several levels. The higher the clearance the higher the level. If Clint was a betting man (and he is) he’d say Coulson’s file would be on B10. Hadn’t Melinda May worked there not so long ago? Where’s she run off to?

The floors themselves are organized via an unknown system so Clint takes a look in every filing cabinet (all top secret information is on paper only and sometimes encrypted). It takes several hours and by the time he gets through the last file his anger is returning.

He should have stayed and listened to what Bailey had to say. He’s sure Natasha is squeezing every detail out of her now. In the friendliest way. And now he’s stuck fuming in _fucking_ Administration with nowhere else to go and nowhere else to look–

But there is somewhere else to look.

This is how Hawkeye ends up nose to nose with the barrel of Maria Hill’s gun.

“Remove your sticky fingers from my filing cabinet Agent Barton.” He does as he’s told, and is rewarded by not having his fingers crushed as the cabinet slams closed. “Want to tell me what you’re looking for Agent? Perhaps I can direct you to Administration.”

“Coulson.”

He says it mostly to watch how her shoulders tighten and her fingers twitch the minutest millimeter on her weapon. But he also thinks that’s all he can get out of the chaos of his thoughts.

“Bailey told you?” She asks, holstering her gun and rifling through papers on her desk. “Fury won’t be very happy.”

As angry as he is with Bailey, he’d never get her into trouble. “We figured it out.”

He swears Hill rolls her eyes, “Sure you did. That woman never did learn how to keep secrets from her friends. Here.” She holds out a file. He looks at it suspiciously. She lets it drop to the floor when he pauses. “If anyone asks Agent Romanoff stole it from me. Now get out so I can finish this paperwork and go home.” He swipes up the folder and gets into the vents before she can change her mind.

}{

And _that’s_ how he finds himself standing outside a SHIELD bungalow. Coulson had always been a fan of the quaint old fashioned things. Clint stares at the gleaming red 1962 Chevrolet Corvette. He can’t make himself walk forward. He can’t imagine knocking on the door and seeing _his_ face. Not after it took him so long to accept that he was dead.

As it turns out, the man still has a knack for knowing exactly where Clint is at all times.

The door swings open and for a single moment it’s like the past four years didn’t happen and Clint was just dropping by, surprising (or, really, not surprising) Phil in his sweatpants. But the closed mouthed smile isn’t there, his lips are tilted in a tense slash. He moves away from the door.

Clint follows him into the house, closing the door behind him.

“You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Phil.” He says calmly, staring blankly at the wall where he can see a picture he took in Oslo. Phil had been busy paying attention to the target and Natasha was reading a book on the bed. Clint had managed to snap a selfie of his own grinning face and Natasha’s raised eyebrow. If one looked closely Phil’s amused bland smile was visible on the half of his face that wasn’t covered by a long range camera.

Phil sighs behind him, “I was going to tell you eventually. Fury didn’t–”

“Fuck Fury.” Clint snarls, twisting so he could examine his dead handler’s face. The tense line of his mouth was still present but his eyes were softer. Not guilty, exactly, but as close as Phil ever came to it.

“Clint. I’m sorry.”

“That’s four fucking years too late Phil,” Clint stomps into the living room to give himself time to banish the embarrassing break in his voice and the stinging in his nose that means he’s about to cry. He doesn’t cry. He’s an Agent of SHIELD. He’s Hawkeye. He’s an Avenger. He doesn’t fucking cry.

The touch on his shoulder makes him tense to the point of pain, “Clint.”

“Don’t.”

But he ignores him. That’s what he’s good at so why should he stop now? Phil circles him so they’re face to face. Clint finds it harder and easier to hate him. “Clint, I thought it was for the best. The Avenger’s needed something to unite for.”

“Bullshit.” Clint ground out, “That’s Fury’s line of bullshit and you know it.”

“He was right.”

“No he _fucking_ wasn’t.” Clint can barely get the words passed his jaw, now numb with strain.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that, and you know what? It’s not helping. You died Phil.” He’s both angry and embarrassed at the way his voice breaks. “You left me. You dragged me into SHIELD and then left me here. Alone.”

He doesn’t shy away from the touch this time. He’s never been good at saying no to Phil. Particularly when he’s emotionally compromised. Clint’s never been a crier, he prefers beating something to a pulp or getting beat to a pulp than a sob session. Natasha too. She’s less fond of getting hit. So when Clint turns the touch into grabbing his arm in a twist and aiming an elbow at his face, Phil just goes with it.

Clint goes after him with all the anger, betrayal and fear he has left. Phil blocks everything, moving around his living room with ease, dodging and stopping all of Clint’s blows. Finally, he slips by Clint’s erratic (see; nonexistent) defense and pins to the wall next to the Oslo photo.

“You’re getting sloppy Agent Barton.”

“Fuck you.” Clint sneers, and kisses him.

Phil doesn’t gasp, he doesn’t open his move and he doesn’t respond. Clint growls lunging forward and nearly knocking his forehead into Phil’s. He tugs forcefully on his lower lip, almost drawing blood before Phil jerks his head back and starts to say, “Clint, I–”

“You’re sorry, yeah, I get it. Come up with something more original.” Clint kisses him again and this time, _at last_ , Phil lets him in.

}{

“You should probably get dressed.” Clint mutters mulishly against Phil’s collarbone. They’re no longer up against the wall (even though the first five minutes had been). Maybe Phil had been aiming for the couch and missed because they were beside one of the arms. “Natasha’s got to be done interrogating Bailey about now.” He watches the muscles in Phil’s neck twitch and tighten, “Stop that. Bailey didn’t have a choice. If she didn’t do it, Fury would have found someone else. And I don’t think I would have forgiven her if she let you die.”

It’s silent for a few too long minutes before Phil whispers against his hair, “I never wanted this.” Clint remembers. He remembers the way Phil got quieter and more frustrated (in that calm undetectable way that he does) over the project Clint wasn’t allowed to be on. The secret one.

The one that saved him.

“I’m sorry.”

He chuckles and presses his lips against Clint’s head, “Only you could get a conversation to do a one eighty in the space of an hour.”

“Ok, but it was an hour _with sex_. The sex helped.”

Clint clambers off of Phil and pulls the man to his feet. The tight slash from when first opened his door is replaced by a sinfully satisfied curl, “Yes,” He says, leaning in to wring out one more kiss, “The sex helped.”

Clint leaned back after a moment of indulgence, “You’ve got to forgive Bailey eventually too – preferably before she starves herself to death – and you’ve got four years to make up for not telling me you were alive.” He pokes Phil harshly in the side, “Asshole.”

“You know what that kind of talk does to me.” Phil says straight-faced.

Clint tackles him to the floor.

When Clint is sitting comfortably on Phil’s chest he grows serious, “Our earlier conversation is not over by the way. I’m still pissed.” And hurt and betrayed and _Phil how could leave me there? How could you leave me alone for_ four years?

“I know.”

Clint stares at his hardened mouth, leans down to kiss it, “You could at least say you’re sorry.”

He’s rewarded with that closed mouthed smile he hasn’t seen for four years.

}{

The rest of the Avengers do come by – sans Bailey who had escaped home. The reunions are odd to say the least. Bruce really hadn’t known Coulson, Thor, Steve, and Tony only a little better. It pans out rather well, all things considered.

Tony barges in, past Thor who’s still booming about the revival of the Son of Coul. He heads straight for Coulson’s kitchen and comes back with a glass and a bottle of Scotch. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to stand someone up for four years?”

Clint gets to laugh at Phil acting all nervous when Steve stares at him, opening and closing his mouth like some kind of fanboy (seriously, what a twist) before clearing his throat and clapping Phil on the shoulder, “I’m – It’s – Welcome back, Agent Coulson.”

Phil’s eyes go wide and his eyes go a little glassy, “Uh, thank you.”

Natasha comes in, eyes Clint’s messy hair and turns back to Coulson, “If you ever do something like this again…” It’s a cold day in hell when the Black Widow can’t think of something bad enough to threaten you with.

Bruce – who had come in and stood by the door, looking out of place – tugs at his fingers, “The Other Guy really likes Natasha.”

Clint’s pretty sure the whole room gets a shiver.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember!  
> If you don't like it; move on.  
> If you do; leave a kudos.  
> If you want another one or have a suggestion, concern, question, or comment; Leave a comment!
> 
> may you have fluff smut and angst in your future!


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